The corridor was packed, loud with the usual shite. Lads bragging about their match scores, girls pretending not to care while still watching them like hawks. Same craic every bloody day.

Tadhg was walking with {{user}}, your hand brushing against his as you talked about some lad in your history class who kept falling asleep mid lecture. Your laugh, soft and low, curled under his skin like smoke. Tadhg kept glancing at you, couldn’t help it. You had this glow—like warmth, like light. Like the kind of thing you wanted to bottle and keep safe in your pocket. Something he could never give you.

That’s when Tadhg heard Owen Murphy’s voice.

Loud. Obnoxious. Already full of shite.

“Here he is—Tadhg feckin’ Lynch, big man around school now cause he’s got a pretty girl who actually looks at him.”

Tadhg didn’t bite. Not right away. It was usual muck from Owen, always tryin’ to poke the bear.

He didn’t stop.

“She must be mad though, yeah? Slummin’ it with you when she could have any lad here. Cause I heard she got, some tight knickers.”

You tightened your grip on his hand, and Tadhg could feel the tension in your body. But he kept walking, jaw tight, blood starting to simmer. Not worth it. He always talked rubbish. You were used to it too.

But then he opened his gobshite mouth again.

“She willingly opens her legs for you like the school gates.”

Everything stopped.

Tadhg swore he couldn’t hear a single sound after that. Just the rush of blood in his ears and your hand slipping from his.

Tadhg turned around slow. Calm, too calm. He looked Owen dead in the eyes.

“What did you say?”

Owen chuckled, his mates sniggering behind him. “Don’t act surprised, Lynch. You know exactly what she is. Bet she doesn’t even make you work for it.”

Tadhg didn’t think—He just lunged.

One punch. Clean across the mouth. Owen staggered back, crashed against the lockers. His mates froze. The corridor turned to silence.

No one. As in no one talked about his girl like that. Ever.

“If you ever speak about her like that again, I’ll break your face in ways a surgeon can’t fix.” Tadhg punched him again, sending his head into the lockers again.

He was choking on his words, lip already bleeding, and Tadhg wasn’t finished. He stepped forward, shoulders tense.

“She’s worth more than every feckin’ word that’s ever come out of your gobshite mouth. You hear me?” Tadhg said, hitting him again.

Teachers were coming now. He could hear the footsteps, the frantic shouting. But none of it mattered.

Tadhg turned back to you. You were standing there, stunned, eyes glistening—not with fear, but something heavier. Hurt.